


The Old-Fashioned Way

by sarken



Category: The Closer
Genre: Annual Femslash Kinkmeme, Episode: s06e09 Last Woman Standing, F/F, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 22:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12492300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarken/pseuds/sarken
Summary: Sharon wants a promotion.





	The Old-Fashioned Way

**Author's Note:**

> Written -- very slowly -- for the Brenda/Sharon prompt ["sleeping with the boss to climb the ladder"](https://femslash-kink.dreamwidth.org/15813.html?thread=2266565#cmt2266565) from the 2015 Femslash Kink Meme.

Brenda gets a little tipsy, and Sharon's glad -- she can't imagine the new chief of police gets a lot of downtime in her first month on the job. But she's worried, too, of course, because the new chief of police is a pretty blonde divorcée laughing and talking too loud in a hotel bar, and people talk. So it's a relief when Brenda lowers her voice and leans in.

"There's something I've been wondering, Captain," she says. Her wine glass dangles loosely from her hand; Sharon has to resist the urge to lift it from her fingers and set it safely on the table.

"And what might that be?" Sharon asks, smiling, resting an elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. Someone could accuse her of flirting and they wouldn't be wrong.

"If sleepin' with the boss is a -- how'd you put it? Is a time-honored way of advancing your career... how come you never?"

Sharon leans back and takes a sip of her wine. "Never had the right boss." She lets her gaze linger on Brenda's cleavage before looking her right in the eyes. "Chief."

"So it is something you've considered, then."

Sharon shrugs with one shoulder, shakes her hair back from her face. "Who hasn't fantasized about earning a promotion?"

Brenda's knee nudges against Sharon's. "I keep hearing how it's my responsibility to create opportunities for other women on the force. Seems like I ought to start with the woman who helped put me in this position."

Heat rushes to Sharon's cheeks even faster than it builds between her legs. "I'd certainly make the most of any opportunity I was given." Beneath the table, she spreads her legs, letting Brenda's slip between them. She leans in so Brenda's knee pushes up her skirt. "Chief."

"Maybe we should take this negotiation somewhere more private. Say up to my room?" Her knee pushes against the inside of Sharon's thigh, spreading her wider, and, God, Sharon is wet just from this.

"Yes, Chief." There's so much heat between her thighs, but Sharon still shivers when Brenda stands and she loses the warmth of Brenda's skin against hers. 

"You comin', Captain?" she asks, slipping her purse strap over her shoulder.

"I suppose that's up to you, Chief," Sharon says, even as she gets to her feet. She runs her hands over her skirt to smooth it back into place, half expecting to find it damp. She's going to come hard no matter what Brenda decides to do.

 

What Brenda decides, in the dim light of her lived-in room, is to take off her panties, hitch up her skirt, and straddle Sharon's thigh, to rock against her as she unbuttons Sharon's blouse, pushes down her bra, and helps herself to her breasts. 

Sharon had known Brenda would be greedy, but she'd never thought that greedy would be so good. That she'd be arching off the bed, gasping and desperate to satisfy her chief's hot, hungry mouth.

Her _chief_.

She's on her back for a woman whose first name she's never used, and the realization only makes her hotter. That's the chief of police rubbing off against her thigh, the most powerful woman in the city who is wet for _her_ , and, Jesus, Sharon is coming just from that, her breath hitching as her body coils tight.

When she opens her eyes and her death-grip fingers relax against the sheets, she finds Brenda watching with dark eyes and parted lips. They're swollen and wet, glistening in the lamplight, and Sharon has to have them. 

Breathless and dry-mouthed, she pushes herself up, catches Brenda off guard as she brings their mouths together, one hand at the back of Brenda's head. 

It's a terrible, clumsy kiss that bumps their noses together and knocks Sharon's glasses askew, but Brenda's lips taste like wine and her curls feel like silk. "Chief," she pants, crooked glasses fogging with the heat. "Chief, let me."

Her teeth catch Brenda's lower lip before she falls back onto her pillow, pulls off her glasses, and reaches for Brenda's hips, her hands sliding beneath her skirt.

She's swollen and wet here, too, and Sharon takes a moment to close her eyes and breathe her in. This is what it's like to have her chief, _the_ chief, waiting for her, wanting from her, and she can't help herself: she grabs Brenda's ass and pulls her all the way in, settles that delicious heat against her mouth.

She makes her chief moan with nuzzles and licks, makes her writhe when she spreads her open and dips her tongue inside. She's so hot, so _willing_ , that Sharon's own body starts to ache, and she moans as the chief of police shudders and comes against her face.

Too soon, her chief pulls away, the warmth of her body replaced with gentle fingers stroking Sharon's face. "Thank you, Commander," she says, still breathless, and Sharon smirks before licking her chief's taste from her lips.

"My pleasure, Chief."


End file.
